Baliando
by sailorgreywolf
Summary: This is an extension of my story Legacy; but it's really more of a thought experiment. Spain has a plan to finally seduce his colony, and this time he may be successful. SpaMex lemons


A/N: This is a little guilty pleasure I have been working on for quite a while. Since people have expressed an interest in reading more intense SpaMex, I finished this up and decided to post this. But, this wasn't really intended to be an extended part of Legacy. If you think it adds depth to Legacy, you may consider it canon if you would like. If you think it weakens Legacy, then consider it non-canon.  
Personally, this was more like a thought experiment than part of the plot of Legacy.  
Also, kudos if you can name the English king Spain is thinking about

* * *

Spain watched as the servants lit candles on the table and stoked the fire. It was autumn, and there was a chill in the air. Spain would not have any cold slip into this room like an uninvited guest. Tonight was going to be special, and he did not want it ruined by something so distant as the weather.

Food was placed on the long table, far more than was necessary for two people. But, the point was to show no restraint. Spain wished that showing this was enough to make him feel confident, but he had a fluttering in his chest. He knew what he intended for the night, but it may not come to fruition even with this display of ostentation. He composed himself and waited while the last of his servants hurried away.

He sat down to save himself the nervous energy that came with standing. His mind rested on the question of whether this would be the night he wanted it to be. He had prayed for it every morning at mass. It joined the prayers that wished for the downfall of England and the ruin of France. He desperately hoped that God would oblige him in this one, more than any of the others.

He heard the strong knock at the door, signaling the arrival of Spain's dinner guest. He signaled for the door to be opened, and one of his guards immediately obeyed. Mexico walked through the door with the amazing confidence that he always seemed to exude. Spain smiled and stood. His immediate instinct was to embrace his colony, and there was nothing to stop him from doing so, but he held back because he understood that Mexico was unhappy with him. Romance was difficult, but he had learned to interpret Mexico's silences as anger. The boy was smart enough to have learned long ago not to display his anger.

Mexico spoke, looking around the room as he did so, "This is lavish. Is there a reason for it?" Spain was glad to see his attention to detail was paying off.  
He walked closer and said, as he reached out to put his hand on Mexico's cheek, "Consider it a peace offering. I know you are angry with me and I deeply wish for us to be on good terms."

He took it as a good sign that Mexico did not pull away from his hand. Emboldened by this, he ran his thumb softly over the other's cheek. The skin was soft under his touch. Mexico put his hand on top of Spain's and said, "I'm sorry, Tony. I should not scorn you." It was a quick apology, and not one that Spain believed. But those golden eyes were deep and sincere. He could see that there was regret in them and affection. Spain had to believe in those eyes, and the feelings they conveyed.

He regarded this as a victory. He could see that he had won, that Mexico had apologized for his behavior. Satisfied with this answer, Spain responded with his own concession, "I am also sorry that I lost my temper with you." He then turned and gestured to the table, "Now let us eat."

They both sat in the chairs that were close together at the end of the table. Spain carefully watched the other, enjoying the graceful way his limbs moved. His mind always strayed to how it would finally feel to have those limbs wrapped around him. First, Spain poured them both wine from a carafe of dark red wine that was sitting on the table. He did not intend to get the boy drunk, but strong wine like this would help to make them both speak more freely.

Mexico spoke as Spain carved pieces of pork for both of them. His voice was pleasant in the way it rolled over the Spanish syllables, "You have been busy recently. Do the wars go well?" It was not the topic that Spain most wanted to discuss, but would not deny his colony an answer. He had been busy, that was true. His enemies were growing stronger on every side but he was managing to keep them at bay. But, the empire that had once made him the strongest country in Europe had now one of many, although still the largest.

He responded, trying to keep the topic from taking all the light out of the conversation, "I have been strong, but Arthur is growing in strength. His hold on India makes him rich." Mexico smiled, and the look warmed Spain, wiping away all worries about other empires.  
When Mexico spoke, his voice echoed exactly what Spain had been thinking, "But he's a bandit and a heretic. You are still strong enough to take him."

Mexico took a confident drink of wine, keeping his eyes on his colonizer. Spain smiled at the compliment. He took a piece of bread and tore off a chunk as he spoke, "As long as I have you, I will continue fighting and winning."

It was honest on multiple levels. He pulled material support from Mexico; his riches were still drawn from the rivers of silver and gold that ran through Mexico. But, it was more than that. The boy had grown into the man that Spain most trusted, and the only one he trusted to confide in. He knew that Mexico's loyalty was absolute, even while his other colonies chafed against the bonds of his authority.

Mexico leaned forward. Spain felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. If he just reached out, he could pull Mexico closer to him. But this wasn't the moment for that. He didn't want to frighten the boy by going too fast. Mexico spoke, and the words did nothing to quiet the craving Spain was feeling, "Well, you'll always have me. So the rest should fall into place." The words sent a thrill through Spain. He interpreted the words as yet another pledge of loyalty.

Even the succulent roasted pig on the table to his left was beginning to look less and less appealing. What Spain wouldn't give to pull his colony in and kiss him deeply. He made very little attempt to disguise his lust when he said, "I do hope so, Alejandro. But my faith in you is absolute, and that is what is important."

He took a bite of the pork, but that was not what he was hungry for. He watched as Mexico took a bite. The way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed was so tantalizing. Spain was having a hard time focusing on his own words. Even if the boy had always been beautiful, he had matured recently and become even more appealing. His face no longer had the roundness of youth, but the new angles only worked to make his face more handsome. His lips were still soft and subtle though. Spain longed to feel them pressed against his own, but it was not just his lips that he imagined Mexico's lips against. How long had he held the same fantasy? It had been at least a century. The boy had denied him for so long, but Spain had a plan for tonight. He would not be forward or brusque, that would only scare him away again. Spain would seduce him, as slowly and softly as necessary.

Spain continued to speak, "If God wills it, Arthur's fortunes will soon fall." Mexico smiled and the look made Spain melt. He could see the unspoken encouragement, urging him to continue his ambition.  
Mexico spoke, answering the statement, "Why wait for God to intervene? You can destroy him."  
He paused for a moment before saying, "I will back every move you make."

Spain was still glad to hear this loyalty, but the discussion of politics was polluting the air and making it unfit for seduction. He spoke, "Let's not speak of Arthur. He is a thorn in my side that I will soon pluck out." The question of what to do with England was not something that Spain wanted to consider. It appeared that his prayers would soon be answered though; he had heard news that the English Parliament was in open defiance of the king. If the king made the wrong move, the entire system could come crashing down.

Mexico smiled again and took another drink of wine. He then said, "What would you prefer to talk about? The weather is usual for this time of year, perhaps a little cold."  
Without waiting to consider his words, Spain responded, "I am impressed by your ability to feel the cold. If you want warmth, I can provide it." He immediately reproached himself for the obvious advance. He had made little secret of the affection he held for Mexico, but the single comment seemed too forward.

As Spain glanced down, he realized that the other's glass was almost empty. Judging that wine would ease the conversation further, Spain took the carafe of wine and poured Mexico another cup. The gesture did not go unnoticed. The colony smirked and said, "Are you trying to get me drunk, Tony?"  
Spain responded with the most immediate instinct, "No, of course not. I don't want you to go without."

He meant the response to soothe Mexico, but he knew how transparent the gesture was. However, he could gauge how far out of line he had stepped by the boy's response. There was no glimmer of discomfort in Mexico's expression, so Spain's heart continued to beat hard in his chest, longing for this night to continue in exactly this vein.

Mexico didn't respond immediately. Instead, he reached across the table and put his hand on top of the Spaniard's. He said with the same soft smile, a glimmer of light reflected in his gold eyes, "You're good to me." Spain immediately reacted to the contact. His skin burned as it longed to touch more of Mexico's skin. But, Spain restrained himself. Being brazen now would only scare him away.

But, he couldn't resist taking the hand in his own and bringing it to his lips. He pressed them softly to the skin of Mexico's hand. His nose was immediately filled with the smell of Mexico's flesh. It was so enticing. It smelled of dark chocolate and chillies and cactus blossoms. Spain loved that scent and the strange sweetness of it. Spain glanced at Mexico's face as he kissed the boy's hand. He watched as Mexico's lips parted slightly, showing the deference that he was willing to give Spain. The Spaniard was tempted to continue kissing the hand, simply for the reaction. But, he knew there would be other opportunities to get reaction from the boy. It was sexy though, even if Mexico did not intend it to be so.

Spain set the other's hand back down on the table, but kept his hold on it. His dinner was completely abandoned, but he couldn't care less. There were more important things to focus on. His mind was focused on the circles his thumb was tracing on the back of Mexico's hand. He decided to change the topic of conversation to something that would coax Mexico, like a cautious cat, towards him. He said, "Did I ever tell you about my time with the Moorish Caliphate?"

Mexico's lips curled into a smile that seemed to indicate curiosity. He responded, "You've told me very little about it. I was under the impression it wasn't pleasant for you." He also didn't move his hand away from Spain's, which was an exceptionally good sign. Spain decided to continue to speak because he already had what he was going to say planned.  
He said, "It wasn't all bad. He used to encourage whores to sneak into my bed hopping that I would develop affection for one of them."

Mexico smirked; it was an expression that Spain was used to seeing. He knew that it was going to be followed by a witty comment, like it always was. Mexico said, "Are you trying to make me jealous, Tony?"  
Spain smiled, but continued to talk, "When he realized I wasn't touching any of the women, the gender changed. I admit I experimented, but I told the caliphate I would never fall in love."

He gritted his teeth thinking back on the argument. He had seen clearly that every attempt was just an attempt to find something to trap him with. He hadn't felt anything about any of the Moorish boys he had had; each had been pretty and lithe, but they were also just submissive. They had been toys, and nothing more.

He glanced at Mexico, trying to gauge his reaction. Mexico's hand was curled into a fist on the table. It seemed to be a jealous reaction, and Spain couldn't help but feeling a perverse pleasure in it. The boy had to really care deeply to react with such anger, and Spain was glad to see it. The point he was going to make would melt Mexico.

He continued to speak, "I believed it too. All I needed in life was my sword and my bible." He paused for only a moment, and then purred, "But that was before I had you." Mexico's gold eyes went from hard to soft the moment he realized that he was being praised.  
He said, his voice softer than it had been, "I've changed you then?"

He took another drink of wine. Spain made a small mental note that the other had drunk enough to be pliable. The soft, almost teasing smile on the Mexican's face was urging him onward. His grip tightened on Mexico's hand, and the other's smile widened. Spain pushed away his own glass of wine. He would not need it to make him bold enough tonight. He continued, not giving into the temptation to banter with Mexico, "I love you more than I've ever loved anyone."

He meant the words to be more than a ploy for seduction. He meant them completely, but they also would pull the other closer to him. Like invisible caresses, they would tame and comfort the boy. Spain knew that Mexico was vain, and he knew that praise would soon win him over. Mexico leaned forward, and the move made Spain's heart skip a beat. He could already see the boy closing the distance between them and kissing him lustily. But, as the appealing vision danced in front of his eyes, Mexico spoke, "Let's have a game of chess."

Light danced across the gold in his eyes, calling to Spain. But, the boy wasn't done being enticing eyes still fixed on Spain, he dipped his index finger in the glass of wine. Then he brought the finger to his lips, and sucked the wine from it. Spain could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He could also feel arousal flashing across his skin. Mexico added, "Unless you would like to do something else."

Spain could think of a whole host of things he would rather do, but he would not speak them. He could not just proposition Mexico; he knew that he needed to seduce the other. So, he would agree to the ruse of a game of chess. He responded, "I'm always willing to play with you."

He had not meant the words to carry such heavy innuendo. But, there was no way to take them back. Spain had no desire to apologize for the words either, even when Mexico's eyebrow arched slightly. If the other wanted to read into the statement, then he would know what the Spaniard had planned for the rest of the night

Spain had already planned for the eventuality that Mexico would ask for a game of chess. He said, not waiting for Mexico to respond to his statement, "It will be more comfortable by the fire." He glanced over near the fire, where he had arranged for pillows and carpets to be set up in the Moorish fashion. It was meant to make the floor a comfortable place to sit, and the spot close to the fire would be warm.

Mexico glanced over his shoulder, following Spain's gaze. He smiled slightly and turned back to Spain, "I thought you didn't keep to the Moorish tradition." The Spaniard smiled, glad that Mexico was showing such knowledge of his past. It had taken time and care for him to know Iberian history so well. But, Spain had plans and he was beginning to get impatient with this banter. He would not allow himself to break down and force the situation. Every time he had done that before, Mexico had recoiled from him.

Slowly, Spain stood up and walked over to Mexico and extended his hand to his colony. It was an invitation, and it was meant to be completely clear what for. The boy took the hand, and the touch was soft. Spain wondered if it would be worth it to just pull Mexico against him and then press him against the flat surface of the dining table. But, the plush gilded pillows would serve as a much better bed.

So, Spain simply guided his colony over to the fire, where a place had already been set. As Mexico settled himself in the nest of pillows and leaned back against one. A few pieces of his dark hair clung to his neck even as the rest fell back onto the pillow. It was so appealing to see the way the hair highlighted the delicate curves of his neck, all the hollows that Spain longed to kiss. The caramel skin looked ever warmer, more delicious in the soft orange light of the fire.

Spain's heart pounded as heat rose in his skin. He could feel his clothes uncomfortable and stifling against his skin. It took all of his willpower to produce a chess board from between the pillows and a velvet bag that contained the expensive silver and marble chess pieces. He sat down and placed the board between them. His hands were steady, but their every move spoke of false intent as he placed each piece on the board. This was not what they longer to be.

Since he had given himself the white pieces, Spain made the first move. He kept his eyes on the board until he had moved a pawn. Then, when he looked back up, he realized that Mexico had taken off his jacket and tossed it to the side. His chemise was curiously transparent, allowing Spain to see his chest beneath it. He could see the nipples, still soft and inviting. The tips of his fingers could already feel the smooth skin, teasing it to pertness. He could imagine the soft mewling that his ministrations would create.

Mexico smirked as he ran his finger around the top of a pawn, "Are you ready to lose, Tony?" Spain found himself completely indifferent to the outcome of the game as Mexico moved his own pawn. The move was bold; it created a trap by daring Spain to take the pawn or risk losing his own. He took the risk and moved a different pawn; it would open a part of his defenses but it wouldn't matter.

Mexico smiled and took the pawn that had been left open. Expecting the move, Spain took the other's pawn with his knight. It was still only a ruse though, and Spain's eyes were fixed on Mexico. He was enjoying watching the way that the muscles tensed and released beneath the skin. Mexico's had acquiredacquired a man's body now, and the slightest movements were made all the more tantelizing by the obvious curves of the muscles beneath the skin.

A few more moves passed in complete silence, the only sounds the crackling of the logs in the fire and the dull sound of the chess pieces hitting the board. But, as it turned back into Mexico's turn, the boy placed his finger on top of his bishop, but didn't move it. He cocked his head slightly to the side, his smirk was clear. Spain already knew that look; it was the one that Mexico always had before he asked for a favor. The tireless percussion in Spain's chest intensified, making him wish that the words would come more quickly.

He was certain that Mexico could feel it too, the way that the air between them was thick with sexual tension. The air was hot and sticky and as intoxicating as any aphrodisiac. Mexico spoke with a slow deliberate style, "It looks warmer on your side of the board." He twirled the bishop between his fingers as he waited for his colonizer to respond. Spain knew the look that appeared on his face was on of success. This was what he had been waiting for all night. A purr rumbled out of his throat, "Then come over here and feel it."

For emphasis, he patted the pillow next to him, but it wasn't necessary. His intentions were already perfectly clear. Like something out of one of his fantasies, Mexico crawled around the board and settled on the pillows next to Spain. Without a thought, Spain wrapped his arm around the other's strong shoulders.

Mexico, to the Spaniard's surprise, leaned in and whispered, "Your strategy is so much clearer from this side of the board." The clever words, spoken in a soft, sweet, wisp of voice, made a shiver pass over Spain's skin. He tightened his hold on the Mexican boy's shoulder, and he reached over with his other hand and put it on the younger's thigh. Spain then said, using the same breathy whisper, "Such a clever boy."

The fabric of the pants felt so thin beneath his hand that Spain could feel the heat of the flesh, and was almost certain he could feel the other's quickening heartbeat. He moved his hand slowly up the leg, making his way slowly to the more sensitive parts. His lips were almost touching the shell of Mexico's ear as he said, "I've got something for you and I know you're going to like it." Unable to to restrain himself, Spain nibbled the ear gently.

Mexico pulled away and rounded on Spain. The Spaniard's stomach dropped at the loss of contact His eyes had turned hard again, the gold turning sharp. When he spoke, his voice had turned harsh again, "Is that what you think of me? That you can just buy me like one of those whores?"

Spain could do little more than sigh. With how long they had lived together, he had become used to these outbursts. The only way to deal with this one was to try and placate it. He counted himself fortunate that Mexico had not stood up and attempted to storm away. It would be easier with him here.

Spain simply snapped his fingers, and a servant scampered in, carrying a small plate. He handed the plate to Spain and then made himself scarce. Mexico still had the look of an affronted cat in his eye, but he regarded the plate with cautious curiosity. The Spaniard brought the plate closer to the fire, allowing Mexico to see what was on it. The golden eyes widened as he realized what it was. A smile of childish joy appeared on his face, one that Spain had not seen in quite a while. All the aggression had melted out of Mexico's voice as he said, "You got me chocolate?"

Spain had suspected that the sweet, derived from the bean that the Aztecs had been so fond of, would be a good tool with which to ply Mexico if the boy had the same tastes as his mother. Cautious not to let his strategy slip through, Spain said, "I remembered that you like it."  
Again, he patted the pillows where Mexico had been lying, "Come back and I'll give you a piece."  
The childish smile did not fade from Mexico's face as he leaned back into the pillows. He said, "Ok I'll be a good boy, Tony."

The words were coy, but Spain took them as a promise. He could see the sincerity in the depth of the golden eyes. He responded, "I'm sure you will." Then, he took a single piece of chocolate from the plate. It was very dark chocolate, the original bean hardly diluted by sugar. It was meant to be rich and intoxicating. He then pressed it to Mexico's lips. The boy obligingly parted his lips and took the chocolate in his mouth. The heat of the fire started melting the chocolate, causing it to stick to the Spaniard's fingers. Mexico took the piece completely into his mouth and his half closed eyes clouded over his pleasure. His tongue ran over his lips, collecting the dark brown residue

There was something other than just pleasure in his eyes; there was a sense of nostalgia. Spain could imagine where the look came from; the taste probably reminded him of his mother and a half-remembered childhood of savagery. Spain felt himself smile, even though he would rather not have Mexico remembering his Aztec past. And yet, there was a glow to the memories of childhood that would make Mexico far more pliable. Between the wine and the chocolate, there was no way that the boy would be resistant tonight. Mexico's eyes fluttered open again and he said, "That was good."

Then apparently realizing that Spain still had melted chocolate on his hands, Mexico leaned closer and licked the semi-liquid chocolate from the fingers. Spain felt a flush mount his cheeks, and the heat was even more intense in the fingers that Mexico's tongue had graced.

Unable to hold himself back, Spain spoke, "I don't want to buy you." He put his hand back on Mexico's thigh and he wondered if he imagined the slight quiver that went through the leg. He continued to speak, wanting to make his point perfectly clear, "I just want to make you happy." He moved his hand farther up the thigh and put his other hand on the boy's chest, which was heaving. Spain continued to speak, "I want to worship you."

The other's reply was quick-witted, but breathy, "Isn't that blasphemy?" Spain felt himself smile, amused that his colony had taken so well to his faith. He already had a reply. He ran brought his hand to the very front of Mexico's chemise and took the laces between his fingers.  
He said, playing along, "If I needed proof of God's perfect design, then your body is it. He made you perfect." With those words, he pulled the lace and slipped his hand underneath.

The chest that Spain had been watching all night was now open to him like an idyllic topography. He heard the gasp as Mexico felt the hand make contact with his skin. Then he gave a soft moan as the hand found a nipple. It was exactly as Spain had imaged, as he had fantasized. But, the Mexican made a weak attempt to speak, "Tony, I-"

Spain stopped all objections by pressing his lips against Mexico's. There was resistance at first, but slowly the boy started to concede, letting Spain pry his lips apart. The bitter taste of dark chocolate was still fresh, making the boy's mouth all the more appealing. The hand that had been on Mexico's thigh moved to undo his pants.

Without even looking, Spain was able to undo the buttons. First, he slipped his hand into the pants. As Mexico moaned, Spain used the opportunity to push his tongue into the other's mouth. It was so easy to play with the young man's body and get the reaction he wanted.

But, as Spain started to softly stroke him, Mexico let out a sound like a growl. There were hands on his shoulders, pushing him away. Spain fought the urge to pin Mexico's hands down and continue exactly what he was doing. But, he would not do that; it was only his filthy Moorish blood that urged him towards such barbarism. He allowed himself to be pushed away, but not so far that he could not easily resume what he had been doing.

Mexico's eyes were somewhere between melting into lust and staying resolutely solid. But, his voice was strong as he said, "We can't do this." Spain could see hesitation in the other's eyes, and he knew that the words were little more than an excuse.  
But, he still said, "Why not?"

Mexico took a couple shallow breathes, attempting to ground himself. He then looked directly at Spain and said, "I know what people say about me. I don't want you to think the same thing." Spain didn't listen to the gossip around the court, but he could imagine what it said. His fondness for Mexico was well known, and his other jealous colonies would pervert it into what it was not. The idea that the court thought Mexico was sleeping with him for favor made Spain's blood boil. It made sense that the boy should be so hesitant. His real affection for Spain gave him ample cause for refusal.

Spain ran his hand through Mexico's hair, tucking the fringe behind his ear. He spoke softly, attempting to be soothing, "No body else needs to know. I won't tell and you won't. This is between you and I." He paused for a moment to lean in closer before saying, "I am doing this because I love you."

He did not stray away from the words because he wanted to be clear. There was no danger in expressing himself fully to Mexico, who was the only colony he could possibly trust. He saw his own earnest desire reflected in the other's eyes, and he knew that there was no harm in being candid about his feelings. He brushed his lips against Mexico's and whispered, continuing to calm the boy, "Don't worry about anything. I know what I'm doing. I will be gentle with you."

He put his hand back on the other's thigh, and was again able to feel the heartbeat racing. It was an intoxicating feeling to have the other's heart in his hand. But, he knew the fear that was making the beat race. The boy knew nothing of sex, and he was understandably afraid of what was about to happen. But Spain was ready and willing to ease him into it. He slowly lowered his lips to the other's neck and kissed the skin lightly; he would not yet escalate it, not until he knew that Mexico was comfortable.

He laid another light kiss on the man's skin, and then he felt a hand in his hair. It was the sign of consent that he needed to continue more aggressively. As he grazed the skin with his teeth, he heard his own name spoken in the beautiful rolling voice of his colony, "Tony." There was scarce a more beautiful sound he could imagine than his own name so breathlessly on the lips of his possession.

Spain broke away for a moment to say, "Do you want me to stop?" He wasn't certain what answer he was expecting, but he was already undeniably, almost painfully aroused. With every fiber of his self, he hoped that Mexico would not deny him again. He looked directly into the other's eyes to see what emotions dwelled there.  
The fragments of gold reached a furious heat and as they boiled over the words slipped out, "No, don't stop."

It was not the voice of the confident young man; it was the last echoes of the uncertain child that Spain had rescued so long ago. The pure, unencumbered emotion that shot through Spain and made an entirely new flush take to his skin. He leaned in again to whisper new words of encouragement, "I can't tell you how happy you've made me. I will return the favor."

Spain then resumed kissing the other's neck. But he could tell that his own body, finally granted what it had craved for so long, would punish him for slow patient foreplay. He knew that the more he could excite his prey, the easier it would be to finally consummate this relationship. The Spaniard finished his progress up the outstretched neck and turned to Mexico's lips, which were slightly parted, inviting a tongue to invade them. As Spain devoured Mexico's lips, he could feel that the old resistance had melted away. His most precious colony was opening for him perfectly, his back arching as Spain's hands teased the most sensitive part of his inner thigh.

This was more than just a romantic encounter; it was perfect to have Mexico here, surrounded by opulence. It felt so right to have the fire flickering so close by, adding heat to that already in their blood. Spain's heart was beating a passionate flamenco against his sternum. He moved his hand again, this time to squeeze the bulge between Mexico's legs.

This movement got an even more energetic response than Spain had anticipated, Mexico brought one leg up around his colonized's waist and used it to pull his colonizer even closer. He used the position to grind his own hips against the other's. Spain let out an involuntary whimper. The friction was so unexpected, and yet so good that it caused the Spaniard to lose his composure.

He was suddenly aware of the fact that Mexico's leg was around his waist, while one of the boy's hands was tangled deep in his hair and the other was placed perfectly between his shoulder blades. Each point granted Mexico a remarkable amount of control over Spain's body. For a brief moment, the Spaniard wondered if he was even in control of this encounter. There was only one way to take back control, and he was going to take it.

He used both of his hands to grab the Mexican's shirt and pulled it off. The point was to force Mexico to release his hold with both of his hands in order to allow the shirt to come off. Just as he predicted, Mexico stretched his arms out, allowing the fabric to be removed. The landscape of muscles that Spain had only observed, like a blind man, by touch was now laid out before him.

He immediately went to work on the smooth skin of Mexico's chest, using his teeth sparingly. As he did so, he found the sensitive band of tattoos on the boy's arm. He ran his finger slowly over the band, increasing the sensation from it slowly. He kissed lower down on the boy's abdomen, still restraining himself. But, breathy moans floated to his ears through the thick air. The words were a mix of Spanish and Nahuatl, but there was one that Spain could make out clearly, "Por favor."

The plea, the final submission was enough to finally break the last of Spain's restraint. He could no longer play with Mexico's body, not with such provocation. He knew what steps to take next perfectly well; every boy he had ever slept with had been the same from here. Spain could have offered his fingers to Mexico, but he didn't dare. This was his desire and he would not risk it in asking Mexico to submit farther. The boy was so stubborn and proud and those were traits that Spain valued. In this moment, they were dangerous though ; they could give Mexico reason to turn away.

So, Spain took his fingers in his own mouth, while using his other hand to pull off the other's pants. He heard the way Mexico's breathing became more frantic, and it was clear that it was a nervous reaction. Spain finished with his own fingers and then leaned forward and kissed Mexico's abs again. Then he looked back up at his colony and said softly, "I'm not going to hurt you." He laid another soft kiss on Mexico's stomach, "I am going to make you feel good."

Then, trying to be gentle, pressed a single finger into the boy. He felt the quiver go through the other's flesh. Spain let out a slow breath, praying to God that he could be patient. Mexico spoke, his voice surprisingly strong, "Come back up here, Tony." The Spaniard looked back up at his colony, whose eyes were fixed on him already. He couldn't deny this request, with those eyes looking at him so placatingly. He kept his hand where it was, but he came back up so that his face was even with Mexico's.

He was trying for a reassuring smile, and it must have worked because suddenly both of Mexico's hands were in his hair. The boy pulled him down into another deep kiss. Spain hadn't expected it, nor did he expect for Mexico's tongue to invade his mouth. It was sudden and sweeter than just submission. There was a thrill in feeling Mexico's tongue in his mouth, the teeth against his lips.

Without any permission, Spain inserted another finger. He felt another slight shiver, but this one was far more restrained. Mexico was getting more used to this, and that only made Spain bolder. There was nothing but this moment. It was like one of his dreams, his fantasies had finally been made flesh and it was warm and precious.

Spain focused himself firmly on what he was doing as he pulled out his fingers and pushed himself into his colony. There was no way to describe the feeling other than bliss. Spain was losing all sense of place and time; this was all he wanted. He pulled his lips away from Mexico's and resumed kissing wildly down the man's neck. He could feel both of Mexico's legs wrapped around him, pulling him even closer. There was still a hand in his hair, guiding his head down.

Carefully, the Spaniard started his first thrust. Mexico let out a slow moan, and his hold on his colonizer tightened. Spain could feel nails digging into his back, but the hold only made him more certain that Mexico wanted him. He started the next thrust, but Mexico pushed up with his hips. The boy let out a deep throaty moan. It was incredibly sexy, and Spain knew that it would echo through his mind for the next couple days.

He increased his pace, seeing now that his caution had been unwarranted. He tried to match the rhythm that Mexico's hips were grinding against him. It was easy once they reached the same shared beat, like dancers matching each other's movements. Mexico's moans were sweet, but so different than those of the Moorish whores that Spain had had before. These were strong and self assured.

Spain knew that Mexico would come soon; he was a virgin and this sort of sensation would soon overwhelm him. There was one spot that he need only find to drive his colony over the edge. He shifted his aim and found the spot he was aiming for. Mexico went completely rigid as the feeling hit him, his body reacting to a feeling that was completely new. Spain smiled to himself as he imagined how it would be to see the first orgasm his precious colony would have. It was so close now.

Spain aimed another thrust at Mexico's prostate while rubbing his finger against the tattoo. It was enough finally; Mexico's back arched and his eyes clamped shut. His nails cut deep into Spain's back. Spain barely felt the pain; he was too engrossed in the feeling as Mexico tightened around him. The glow when he came was incomparable, as were the feelings that came with it. After all the years of being under the thumb of the Moors, he finally had the life he wanted. He had an empire, but, more importantly, he had a lover who was perfectly loyal to him.

In his soft daze, Spain ran one hand through Mexico's hair. He knew that there was a soft, sloppy smile on his face, but he didn't care. He laid down on the pillows next to Mexico and wrapped his arms around the boy. The fire had burned down to embers, but there was heat between them. Spain spoke, and he could hear the levity in his own voice, "See, there was nothing to be afraid of."

He kissed Mexico softly on the forehead, and he could taste the sweat on his lips. But, he still dreaded what the other would say once he caught his breath again. There were a couple seconds of steamy silence before Mexico finally said, looking straight up at the ceiling, "You promise that you won't tell anyone?"  
Spain sighed and said, "Of course. I value your honor."

He looked over to watch the other's chest rise and fall with each breath. He meant the words; he had no intention of perpetuating the rumors that Mexico was sleeping with him for position. Those lies were toxic and would only serve to push Mexico away. So, Spain tightened his hold on his colony; the only colony that mattered to him. He kissed Mexico one more time and then whispered, "I love you, Alejandro." Then he closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall asleep with Mexico in his arms and a glow surrounding him.

* * *

Mexico made certain that Spain was asleep before he moved. It was difficult to slip out from between the man's arms without waking him. But, he had a plan and he was not going to allow Spain's possessive hold to stop him. Once free of Spain's grasp, Mexico walked over to the dinner table.

The food from the abandoned meal still sat on the table. There was a knife sitting beside the roasted pig. Mexico picked up the knife and quickly cleaned it with one of the napkins. It seemed like bad form to kill a man with a knife still spotted with the grease of a pig. The ritual also gave Mexico a way to keep his mind off of what he was feeling. He wanted to feel revulsion, but the feeling would not come. He did not want to think that there had been anything pleasant about the night, but the feeling that was still singing in his blood said differently.

There was hate though, hate for Spain. The man who had irrevocably changed Mexico's life with the single thrust of a sword was laying helpless and asleep only a few feet away.

Once the knife was clean, Mexico walked back over to where Spain was lying. He kneeled down and put the knife to Spain's throat. It would be so easy to just apply a little more pressure and end it all, but Mexico's hand would not obey that command. Unbidden thoughts were crowding his mind. He couldn't do this; his loyalist population would tear him apart if he broke his tie with Spain now. But, if he was not going to use this vulnerability to kill Spain, then what was the point of allowing himself to be seduced? There were answers he refused to consider: Curiosity? Or simple lack of control? It had certainly been something far different than his nights with Brazil.

He tightened his grip on the knife, trying to convince himself to use it. Then Spain stirred in his sleep and said, speaking in his sleep, "Alejandro, te quiero." Mexico's heart gave an unbidden leap in his chest. He growled, cursing himself for being moved by the words. He angrily stomped back to the table and planted the knife point down in the wood of the table. He couldn't leave in the middle of the night; it would be far too suspicious. So, grudgingly, Mexico repositioned himself back within Spain's arms. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall asleep.


End file.
